


Shorts

by dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree



Category: Star Trek Online
Genre: Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, just a bunch of my captains doing captain stuff, or don't i mean i like the stories so, pls ignore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree/pseuds/dont_sit_under_the_apple_tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oy vey</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pave A Little On The Road To Hell

Ensign Moran was dazed and bleeding from a head injury. Surek pushed him out of the way and sat at the helm. If they made it through this, he would make sure the boy got proper medical care - as it was, he would consider them lucky if they got anywhere near the outskirts of the system. He looked over at his first officer. Tarsi was scared, he could tell. She would have to pull through, though, to give them the best chance of survival.

“Main power to shields, auxiliary to weapons.”

She nodded and set about following his instructions. He brought the ship around so the port-side shield took the brunt of the damage. It was the strongest they had.

The console showed a missile incoming and he looked at Tarsi again. She was looking back at him.

“Sir, are...are we going to survive?” Surek looked back down at the small radar screen. He knew their chances. They were one small pioneer class attempting to fend off an entire Klingon fleet. He let out a small sigh and said, “No.”

He felt her hand close over his on the console and he saw her stare in determined Andorian defiance at the viewscreen. He gripped her hand back and braced himself.

Surek was thrown out of the chair on impact and a quick look confirmed the same had happened to Tarsi. She seemed to be immobile, which would have worried Surek under normal circumstances - having an unconscious first officer was not a good thing at the best of times - but this was not normal, and so he lunged to the captain’s chair and slammed his fist onto the comm panel. He was roughly thrown into the arm of the chair as another missile struck. There was a distinct crack and when he coughed, Surek saw small green flecks appear on his forearm.

_So,_ he thought as he roughly pulled himself into the chair, ignoring the pain as best as he could. Breathing was already becoming difficult. _So this is how it ends._ Surek finally let his veneer of Vulcan calm fall and allowed himself the small luxury of sadness. If this was how he was going to die, then no one would know that the captain of the U.S.S. Mariel had gone down not with a bang, but with failing defenses and a pained whimper. He’d better get a monument for this.

  


The next strike would have ended it - should have ended it. In fact, upon opening his eyes, Surek initially thought he _had_ died until he realised he was in the temporal ready room. He sat up and scanned the area, gaze falling on Daniels. The man was, as per usual, in his strange leotard. There was a holographic display directly in front of him, effectively blocking whatever was on the screen from Surek’s view. When he turned to see that Surek was awake, Daniels smiled sadly.

“I’m afraid you’re dead, Surek,” the man sat down next to him, crossing his legs. “Your sacrifice allowed many good Starfleet officers to escape that day, and the Federation found out about Klingon cloaking technology. At least,” again, he smiled sadly. “At least, that’s what the history books say; as far as they’re concerned, that’s the truth - the end of your story,”

Surek raised an eyebrow, starting to piece together what was happening. He said, “That wasn’t the end, then?” Daniels shook his head.

“No, Surek. I’m afraid it wasn’t. You’re being recruited as a temporal agent, to be stationed in the 25th century. You’ll be given a new identity -”

“Daniels, my crew -”

“I saved who I could, Captain. The survivors will, of course, be transferred to your new ship.” New ship?

“The Mariel didn’t make it?” Another head shake. Surek nodded. Captaining the Mariel in the 25th century had been a pipe dream at best. Her technology would literally be over a century out of date. Daniels spoke up again.

“You can’t tell anyone about your past. For all they know, you graduated the Academy in their lifetime and that’s how it should be.”


	2. But here in this graveyard, it's still no man's land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just can't even begin to imagine the mental pain that would come from being suddenly yanked from your own time and told you can't go home. It's kind of short, and there is more to it muddling around in my head, but the English is not working properly for me.

Tarsi entered the holodeck and was greeted by the bridge of the U.S.S. Mariel. The soft brown hair poking over the top of the captain’s chair confirmed that Surek was indeed here. She walked down in front and sat herself in the helmsman’s chair, watching her captain’s face for any sign that she was unwelcome. He stared blankly ahead, chin resting heavily on his clasped hands. She knew that particular blank stare. It surfaced after something reminded him of the 23rd century – of home.

“Captain?” she asked, quietly. His eyes – a dark, rich green – shifted back into focus to properly look at her. Tarsi realized, then, just how old he looked. Too much pain for one so young tended to have that affect, she supposed.

Surek stared long at her before saying, almost in a whisper, “Why do they get to go home, but we can’t, Tarsi?”


	3. All Alone in the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captain opens up to his first officer about his experiences with the Tal Shiar. Things don't go as expected.

“Do you trust me, Sir?”

The answer, of course, was that he trusted no one anymore. Martin didn’t think that would be a very appropriate response in their current situation, so he grinned up at Tovan.

“Do you even have to ask?”

His first officer smiled back, breaking Martin’s heart. Of course Tovan believed him. Why wouldn’t he? They’d been fighting together since Virinat, friends even longer. Tovan hadn’t been through what Martin had been through. He had no nagging doubts now, he didn’t wake up from nightmares filled with Tal Shiar torture, with the image of his best friend hurting him burned into his retinas. No, Martin didn’t trust Tovan. It hurt to see how much faith Tovan put in him.

He turned his head back to the viewscreen, hoping he had placated his friend.

“Sir?” Evidently not.

“Yes, Tovan?”

“Can we talk in private?” Oh dear. Martin glanced at Vorill. She was new, barely a week in. Vorill was dutifully and pointedly not listening as she fiddled with the console in front of her. Truth was, she didn’t need to be there once they were on course. Martin liked that she stayed, since she was available in an emergency, so he didn’t say anything.

“Of course. I’ll be in my ready room. Vorill, keep an eye on things.”

“Yes sir.” Good girl, that. She’d make a fine captain someday, if she ever got the interest.

  


Stepping into his ready room was still new. He hadn’t had one for a long time starting out, and this luxury was as bizarre as it was welcome. The doors shiffed shut behind him and he heard Tovan’s feet as he walked to the sofa. Martin could feel his eyes on him as he bustled about his desk, fiddling with the library port before finally sitting in his chair and swiveling to meet Tovan’s gaze. The concern was unsettling.

“What’s on your mind, Tovan?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were being completely honest on the bridge. You’ve been different ever since we recovered you from the Tal Shiar. You don’t really seem to listen to my suggestions as much.” Martin swivelled back to his desk. He didn’t want to do this right now, with his first officer. How do you even begin to describe what had apparently been only two weeks of nonstop torture and indoctrination? He sighed.

“Tovan. You’re my first officer and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. You’ve been an incredible friend and ally. I just...” Martin picked at a nonexistent spot on his desk as he ran through what to say. “They did things to me that makes it very hard for me to trust anyone as much as I did. My dreams are full of the memories of my time in their hold, and that constant reminder...it hurts. It hurts to know I may never fully believe you when you say you’re on my side, that I’m constantly looking over my shoulder and expecting to see...” he trailed off and turned more fully to his desk, his picking becoming more studied.

He refused to look back at Tovan, to see the betrayal he knew would be resting there. He didn’t expect Tovan to come over to him and kneel beside him, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Sir, if you want we can get you a counsellor. And I’m not sure how much saying this will help, but the person you see in your dreams...that’s not me. He never will be.”

“Thank you. I - I’ll talk to someone.”

“Good. I’ll be out on the bridge if you need me.”

  


Martin watched his friend walk out, watched the door close behind him, watched the walls shimmer and disappear into the plain grey of a holodeck, and he finally allowed himself to break. He collapsed on the table and started to sob, to scream. He kept screaming as rough hands pulled him back to his cell. And finally, with not so much as a by your leave, he collapsed on his cot and slept, dreamless at last. He should have known, should’ve guessed that his freedom was a pipe dream. He shouldn’t have hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um. The thing is. I know how torture and indoctrination work, and it always feels like Khimek's solution is a little too...easy. Because it is. I have a lot of thoughts about how the In Shadows arc should have gone with the whole indoctrination thing, but I won't get into that since I have a limited number of characters.
> 
> Anyway, I know that when the Romulan captain gets back to their ship, they're not going to be in tip-top shape for a long while after. I've developed my character to have severe trust issues regarding his friends after that whole ordeal, and so you have this. 
> 
> p.s. It's so difficult to watch that cutscene. They don't tell you anything about what happens so you're left to fill in the blanks and agh why


	4. Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some really pointless and kind of gay stuff that was written at like...three in the morning.

“We are what you made us. Survivors.” Martin straightened his posture, willing the ache in his spine to leave him alone. The Iconian before him, L’Miren, gazed down at him, her eyes once more soft and kind. It hurt to see her and T’Ket like this, simply because he knew. He knew. He knew what it meant to return to the galaxy as someone you’re decidedly not, and he understood L’miren’s pain and T’Ket’s anger. He felt those as well.

L’Miren inclined her head.

“I am humbled in the face of such humility. Thank you.”

Martin stared up at her, thinking back over the past few hours, the past few hundred years. They had meant to eradicate the Iconians, wipe them from existence. Instead, Martin allowed the war to happen, the lives to be lost, all because in the end…he was a man of mercy. Sela was more Romulan than him at this point, to be quite frank, and that thought mildly disturbed him. Martin wanted to say something to L’Miren, to tell her she wasn’t alone in her grief. He wanted to tell T’Ket that he understood her hatred, that he knew what it felt like to want to murder senselessly. But the Iconians did not want to see him again, and so he let the people who had for so long tormented his life go with barely a protest to be heard.

  


Later, in his quarters with a glass of watered down Romulan ale and his first officer reading quietly at his side, Martin marveled that he’d actually won a war with his damned bleeding heart. The warm weight next to him shifted.

“You’re thinking too much, Mart. Just let yourself relax for once.” His first officer had turned his head to face Martin, a small smile on his lips. The soft lighting of the captain’s quarters accentuated Tovan’s deep brown eyes, turning them into embers that threatened to pull Martin in. Or maybe that was the ale, watered down as it was. The stuff had a kick, and he vaguely remembered someone saying Romulans drank it mostly to prove they could. They were probably right. Martin leaned towards Tovan a little.

The man adjusted, wrapping an arm around his captain. They were both alive at the end of a war that had cost them so much, and for that Martin was eternally grateful. He finally decided that if he could face down the Tal Shiar, Iconians, and Vaadwaur, he could face his own first officer. And with that thought, Captain Martin Serek of the R.R.W. Bracewell finally pushed past his fears and placed a very light kiss on the cheek of Mr. Tovan Khev, first officer on the R.R.W. Bracewell. First officer Khev responded by pulling the captain all the way onto his lap and staying there well past when Martin fell asleep, content to hold his best friend through the night.


End file.
